


Rewriting the classics

by ArbitraryRambunctious (SheepOutTetradecagon)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A considerable amount of time spent world building, Alpha!Mila, Alpha!Yuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Like really slow, Multi, Slow Build, Threesome - F/M/M, YOI shitbang 2017, omega!otabek, poly as norm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheepOutTetradecagon/pseuds/ArbitraryRambunctious
Summary: Literary student Otabek is the youngest of four siblings, born to a all female triad in a world where hierarchy decides everything.Yuri is a dancer with a questionable background and a foul attitude, and most importantly, a desperate need to pass his classes.Picture perfect example  for what a female alpha should be, Mila likes to encourage outrage.Together, they end up in an unlikely dynamic none of them could anticipate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Slides in on heelies while simultaneous breaking every rule concerning posting works in this event*
> 
> I'm sorry for this being extremely late not to mention still in progress. Life is a bitch and I will try my best to finish this as quickly as possible without the quality dropping too far below what it already is. (I'm not entirely happy with it but if I don't get this out soon it never will do here goes)
> 
> This is more or less a shitty excuse to explore a world where a female hierarchy dictates the rules not to mention a character dynamic I don't see very often, so some parts might seem a bit OOC (apologies for that)
> 
> Also unbetaed so have patience with me.

“Your name?”

“Altin”.

“Otabek, right?”

He nodded. The woman behind the register smiled sweetly, handing over a small pill bottle.

His name was printed on a sticker stuck onto it, the plain black letters informing him of the bottle’s content and recommended dosage; a familiar sight. He stuffed the bottle into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of cash.

A stuffy atmosphere hung over the little apothecary, inconveniently situated at the mercy of a relentless morning sun. Even though it was barely 6 am, the line was steadily growing behind him. Somewhere, a child began crying. It did not help the already tense air to which the bubbly cashier seemed oblivious. Otabek wished he could be that overlooking too.

He waited impatiently, awfully aware of the people behind him in the line as the pharmacist shuffled through the cash register at a relaxed pace to find him his change.

“Remember to take them daily for full effect, okay? And laying off them for a week is healthy every now and then. Heats are a natural occurrence after all.”

“Yes, thank you.” The receipt was handed to him along with his change. Otabek glanced back at the woman behind him, a typical alpha. Sturdy build, sharp features and a confident posture.

Also, she rolled her eyes at the exchange of meds, tapping her fingers impatiently against her thigh. If the looks she sent him was anything to go by, she was not happy. Otabek frowned, bowing his head as if it’d help him become less noticeable.

Although it wasn’t him who fumbled absentmindedly with the cash, the woman seemed to be intent on directing her ire solely at him. He mumbled an excuse and hurried out of the apothecary.

The street was relatively busy, people leisurely chatting as they studied the shop windows with semi-interested glances. Otabek pulled his jacket tighter around himself, taking the long way around the park rather than the packed street. There were still a few more minutes before his classes. He needed some time to clear his head, and assemble his front. Maybe question himself a little while he was at it. It was amazing what you could do in just 14 minutes. Slowing his pace, he allowed himself to revel in the luxury of running early.

The park was uncomfortably noisy for a Monday morning. A couple of girls were playing with a young child, mated alphas judging by their scent. They smiled at him as he walked by, doing little to hide the curiosity in their eyes. He straightened his back like his sisters had taught him, a show of confidence, then nodded curtly back. He forced himself not to hurry past them.

They can’t smell you if you don’t want them to.

By the time he reached the pristine school building, he felt notably calmer. A couple of girls were lingering outside the lecture hall, cheerily handing out flyers when people walked past. They were wearing blue t-shirts with the phrase “For a better environment” printed in yellow uppercase letters. Otabek nodded at them, dodging a flyer.

Whatever campaign the student council was running he wasn’t interested. One of them excused themselves from the group and followed him inside.

“I got the paper you wanted.” The girl extracted a file from her bag and made a show of showing one of her flyers into it before handing it to him with a satisfied smile.

“Thank you, Mila,” said Otabek drily.

He quickly leafed through the file to ensure everything was there. Mila in turn, crossed her arms, eying him expectantly. It was a pose Otabek had come to associate with demanding, or more specifically, Mila being demanding. He reached into his bag and pulled out a CD which he handed over to her. Mila did a mock curtsy, shoving the disc into her own bag.

“It should have all the remixes from my last gig. Message me if it doesn’t work.”

“Did you think about my request?”

Otabek grimaced. He found himself a seat on the front row where he had a clear view of the podium. It was also the row with the least people frequenting it, although the students who got there early made it seem otherwise. Mila sat down in the seat next to him, crossing her arms again. Demanding.

“I think you’d like him. He’s definitely into that dark moody thing you’ve got going.”

“He’s that childhood friend of yours who nearly got expelled last year?”

“Yes”.

“Then no.” Otabek pulled out his books and started reading through his newly acquired file.

Beside him, Mila huffed. She leaned into his space, resting her head on his shoulder. The soft comforting smell of caramel apples and cinnamon invaded his nostrils. It made him want to curl up with a blanket and a good book. Mila nuzzled into his neck, dangerously close to his scent glands. It made him flinch. He threw a worried glance over to the other students seated in the hall. They continued with whatever they were doing as if people being molested in the study hall was a normal occurrence.

“I did you a favour, didn’t I? You owe me.”

“Manipulating. He’s your problem, not mine.”

Mila sighed, and sat back, her intoxicating scent easing off with her. Otabek didn’t really consider her a friend as much of an acquaintance. It was in moments like these he priced himself lucky he wasn’t on her bad side. All morals aside, few female alphas were above exploiting their position in order to get what they wanted, Mila even more so. She sighed, her seductive facade fading.

“At least meet him before you decide. It’s not like you’re that busy, plus it would give you more material for your thesis.”

Otabek glanced over at the statistics he had been pouring over. “Elaborate.”

Mila smiled smugly, leaning back in the chair, slinging her legs up on the table. Only Mila could make the hard chairs of the lecture hall look comfortable.

“Those weird books of yours isn’t going to cut it.”

Otabek frowned. There were more than enough male alphas in the school, even with the females being more predominant. «I’m not a scientist, merely a student studying gender dynamic in literature. So, unless he’s secretly some famous writer, why him?”

“I think you might find him interesting. Society is complicated Altin. Much more so than your books. And you’re not going to get anywhere making eyes at that alpha who always picks a fight in the cafeteria.”

Otabek scowled. He didn’t know why the boy had caught his eyes, a typical example of someone his mothers would not approve of.

“That's irrelevant.”

“Just think about it.”

Mila rose, gathering up her flyers. Her shape became backlit by the tall windows lining the wall. In some ways, she looked like one of the epic warriors from the books Otabek liked to read. She handed him a slip of paper.

“Wednesday at 3pm. I’ll make sure he’s there. Good luck with your writing!”

The slip of paper had an address scribbled hastily onto it.

* * *

 The cafeteria was busy when he entered the backroom. Tired student who had pulled all-nighters before their finals, only to be running late for classes were rushing in to get the breakfasts they’d missed, while others were already having their lunches. A few were stockpiling nutrition to last them through the day.

Otabek flung his bag into his locker and hastily changed into his work uniform, an obnoxiously orange shirt with the school logo and a black waist apron.

The other part-timers greeted him briefly when he found his place behind the counter. He delved into his workload without much thought, allowing his mind to drift off elsewhere while he traded cash for overpriced food.

Somehow, the ridiculous prices did not deter the students from spending their savings daily. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was a private school, where 90% of the kids had parents loaded with cash. You could nearly smell the privilege, the majority of the students reeked of it.

Unfortunately, this smell was often accompanied by a boring personality and questionable ambitions.

“You scowling won’t change them. It’s in their blood.”

Otabek startled, not aware of Leo, his co-worker, sneaking up on him to offer him a baguette. Otabek took it reluctantly, peeling away the plastic wrapping. It tasted suspiciously like mayonnaise when he bit into it, but he didn’t comment on it.

“It’s a shame.”

Leo chuckled, biting into a baguette of his own. He gestured for Otabek to sit down with him, their shift nearly over. “Not everyone can be the complex protagonist of your books.”

Otabek huffed. He had known Leo for years. The older boy had worked part-time at his mother’s company since he was only sixteen. Now at 24, he was in his last year of his musicology studies. Unlike most of the students at their school, Leo paid for them out of his own pocket.

“I’m meeting up with Guang-Hong after school. We’re going to that new pizza place on 5th street. You can come along if you’d like.”

Otabek glanced up at his friend. Leo had always been a bit of an eccentric. Fairly pretty for a beta, which could have landed him a place in many a triad. Still, he had never shown any interests in anyone romantically that wasn’t Guang-Hong, the son of the local temple priest. Hanging out with them often felt like hovering on the outside of a bubble, able to look in but not enter himself. He shook his head.

“I have other plans.” A lie. Hopefully Leo wouldn’t question it. The other boy frowned, looking like he wanted to probe at Otabek’s already thin alibi but was interrupted by a customer coughing pointedly.

The inside of Otabek’s mind made a double take, urging him to flee the other way when his eyes made contact with the customer.

Leo side eyed him, making it clear he was leaving this one to him. He really hoped that the muttered apology didn’t go amiss on the boy waiting impatiently at the other side of the register.

The boy shoved a baguette onto the desk. It was wrapped hastily in plastic, marking it as one of the discounted baguettes that were left over from the previous day. Few of the kids bothered to buy them, but the canteen lady was adamant about not throwing away good food. Otabek entered the price of the baguette into the register, ignoring the not-so-subtle snicker from Leo.

“Fifteen please.”

The boy’s eyes were boring into Otabek, even more scathing up close than from afar. Otabek could almost imagine how his favourite author would describe them. Muted but sharp, like the colour of a lake after dark, slightly murky near the pupil, but clearer along the edges. He was the kind of character who would have the protagonist around his little finger, watching them slowly drown while watching immovable from the side-lines.

“What’s wrong with you friend?”

Otabek startled, not having expected a conversation. Despite his nearly androgynous looks, the boy’s voice was sufficiently deep with a certain roughness to it. He glared over Otabek’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that. Do you want the receipt?” Otabek glanced over at Leo who had whipped out his phone. He was thumbing through some social media site, obviously pretending not to listen. Otabek turned back, raising an eyebrow to underline his question.

The boy seemed to lose interest in Leo as well, staring thoughtfully at Otabek before nodding. He was gone before Otabek had the chance to learn anything more about him.

“That went better than expected,” Leo muttered, clasping Otabek’s shoulder amiably.

“I’ve handled worse.”

“None of which had caught your interest beforehand, although frankly, I can’t see what you see in him.”

Otabek sighed. “I’m not sure I know myself.”

* * *

The building located at the address Mila had written down on the slip, was a dull grey. Cracked concrete rose three storeys into the air, making it a looming, albeit relatively small construction. Otabek pulled out the crumpled slip to double check, before hesitantly knocking on the bright green door.

The street behind him was hauntingly deserted, emphasising that the building belonged to one of the poorer districts of the city.

If anyone were to try assaulting him, no one would know. He shifted awkwardly, raising his hand to knock on the door again.

There was a sound of something clattering to the floor and a round of swearing. Maybe he should be more concerned about the people residing inside the building.

Eventually, the door swung open, revealing a dishevelled figure. Otabek opened his mouth in a greeting, but it got stuck in his throat. In front of him, the boy from the canteen glowered at him. They stood there for a few seconds, neither saying anything, although Otabek could swear he saw the faintest hint of surprised for a split second in the younger boy’s eyes. Somewhere, Mila was probably laughing her ass off.

“You’re Yuri Plisetsky,” he stated dumbly.

Another crash from within the building had the boy cringe, sending a poisonous glare from the corner of his eyes. He turned back to Otabek with a jaded look.

“And you’re Mila’s nerd friend. I’m not interested.”

Otabek frowned. He shifted the strap of his bag into a more comfortable position. The younger boy had a few centimetres on him, possibly still growing into his final shape. It made him seem slightly gangly, as if he might fall apart should you pick him up and shake him.

Not that Otabek felt like he had any reason to, even with the cold dismissal.

“Look. I don’t know what she thinks she can get out of this. I don’t know why I am here, but I owe her a favour.”

“Many people do. Why do you think she’s so successful?” Yuri said it with a disapproving tone, but stepped back to allow Otabek inside. He quelled a sigh of relief, following Yuri into the house.

The interior stood in stark contrast to the deteriorating outside. Expensive-looking carpets covered the polished wooden floor. Their designs looked foreign, adding a certain touch the the atmosphere Otabek couldn’t pin point. Abstract paintings hung on the walls, all painted in the same muted umber colour. There were an occasional chunk of plaster lying spread out on the coarse carpets, as if someone had been throwing a tantrum at the walls. However, the walls showed no sign of abuse.

The hallway lead into an open room which doubled as kitchen and living room. Unlike the hallway, it was brightly lit, sleek designer furniture taking up most of the space. A man was lying draped across one of the couches. Yuri made a snorting sound, ignoring the man completely.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get my stuff.”  
Otabek nodded, but Yuri was out of the room before he could possibly have noticed. The man on the couch didn’t move or acknowledge Otabek’s presence.

He walked over to the chair on the other side of the low table, trying not to rouse the man in case he was sleeping. Yuri hadn’t specified what “stuff” meant, but

Otabek hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long.

“So, you’re his new tutor?” The man didn’t open his eyes.

“I’m just doing a friend a favour.”

This seemed to interest his man, as he opened his eyes and sat up, which was more than he had done in the past five minutes. His eyes were an unnerving blue.

“They never last long.” It was a simple statement, without any malice. However, it still felt like a challenge. Otabek was generally not the type to rise to the bait of pushy men, but something about the man made him want to prove him wrong. He forced himself to remain calm and answered with a shrug.

Yuri returned soon after, carrying a small stack of books. He dumped them down on the table, settling next to Otabek.

“Don’t you have places to be?”

“It’s my house. You should be happy I agreed with convincing your parents into letting you move out.”

Yuri grimaced, caught up in an unofficial staring contest with the man. It felt like being caught in the middle of a battlefield in between two opposing parts, except there were no weapons and the fight was entirely silent.

The man broke their eye contact first, shutting his eyes while laughing humorlessly. Otabek looked quickly over at him, who simply winked at him before standing up.

“I’ll leave you kids at it. Don’t scare him away too fast Yurio.”

“Get the fuck out.”

Yuri didn’t stop seething before the man was out of sight, then wordlessly shoved one of the books into Otabek’s lap. He didn’t elaborate any further.

It was one of his favourites, a classic that often went unmentioned due to covering some rather challenging views. It was a book he wouldn’t have expected to find in any household that didn’t challenge society in some way. Accompanying it, was a sheet for analysis.

“You need help with your homework,” Otabek deadpanned.

“Is that a problem?”

Otabek didn’t know if he had expected something else. Although he loved to pretend otherwise, his knowledge about

Yuri was fairly limited. It came down to three things. One: he knew Yuri was a student at his school. Two: His extracurriculars were all dance related. Three: When he was really set on something, he would get this unshakeable look in his eyes that felt like it could defy gravity itself.

The fact that he was struggling with something so mundane, not to mention his choice of literature, made a sizeable dent in Otabek’s first impression of the boy.

“I just expected it to be something bigger considering how much Mila pleaded your cause. There are study groups at campus and I’m sure your parents would be able to afford a proper tutor.” He gestured to the grandiose decor of the room. Yuri shrugged.

“Are you helping me or are you not?”

“If that’s what will satisfy Mila I will. I’m just trying to understand why I was roped into coming here for something as simple as this. So, will you explain to me?”

Yuri stared at him for a moment, then turned away with a bitter laugh. “If I flunk this I won’t be allowed to attend to private school anymore, simple as that.”

Otabek frowned, picking up the pristine exemplar of “A winter dream”.

“Official schools aren't that bad.” He studied Yuri carefully.

Although he did have the same sense of upperclass family to him, there was an underlying rebellious side to him. He stared evenly back at Otabek.

“Home-schooling is.”  
Yuri broke eye contact, is hands fidgeting restlessly with a pencil he had picked up from the table.

An awkward silence fell over the room. Otabek shifted, opening the book. It was a paperback, the spine still resistant from not having been used before.

“Do you have to read the whole series?”

Yuri blinked at him, his eyes betraying his confusion.

“There is more of them,” he deadpanned. Yuri leaned back in the couch, putting his legs up on the low salon table.

“Three. They're easier to understand if you read them all.”

“If I pass that will be enough.” Yuri glanced over at Otabek. He hesitated for a second before posing his next question.

“You've read them all?”

Otabek shrugged. He leafed through the small paperback. He knew the pages like the inside of his hand; even with Yuri’s edition being noticeably newer than his own, he was able to pinpoint what was going on by just reading a sentence or two on any page.

“I'm surprised by your choice.” He didn't know if it was a choice, didn't know why he assumed it was. It could just as well have been chosen by an eccentric teacher. Maybe a tiny part of him hoped that the curious boy he had been occasionally watching for the past year was more than the aggressive brat he had portrayed himself as in the few moments their lives had crossed paths.

“My cousin’s boyfriend read it once,” Yuri explained. He huffed haughtily, putting the pencil down on the table. ” He was all flustered when I caught him with it. Claimed my family wouldn't approve, because you know”.

Yuri gestured aimlessly, possibly hoping Otabek would understand what he was referring to.

“Omega triads,” said Otabek. Yuri averted his gaze, his upbringing shining through the rough facade he was trying to build.

“They rarely give good grades to people who chose these books. If you just want to pass you could've gone with something easier. Something more… acceptable.”

“I know.” Yuri bit his lip. The look he sent Otabek was indiscernible. It made Otabek feel glad he wasn't standing in the way of the younger boy.

“If they do give me a good grade, it would be proof I can manage in my own terms, right?”

“I suppose.”

Yuri nodded to himself, as if he had been waiting for a reassuring word for some time.

“Then show me. Everything you know.” He had moved into

Otabek’s space, staring expectantly at him. There was an almost childlike eagerness to it, enforced by the hunger of a young adult, desperately wanting to be acknowledged.

Otabek stared back in shock for a second, then handed Yuri the book.

“Have you read it yet?”

The fall of Yuri’s face was enough to confirm Otabek suspicions.

“I'll help you on one condition,” Otabek decided. Yuri opened his mouth to protest, but appeared to realise he wasn't in a position to argue.

“Whatever it takes.”  
Otabek rose from his seat, getting himself ready to leave.

“We remain friends after all this is over.”

Yuri gave him a look of surprise, one that told Otabek he had been expecting something entirely else. The momentarily confusion solidified into unshakable resolve, those green soldier eyes yet again seizing Otabek’s attention.

“Read up until chapter 11 by next Monday? I'll be available after my shift at 11:30 in the school cafeteria.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took an eternity I'm sorry, but sadly this fic is hardly a priority with school taking up most of my time and energy. I will get stuff up, so please have patience, thank you!

The next few weeks passed rather uneventfully. Yuri surprisingly showed good progress with his reading, finishing his book with a three week deadline to finish the rest of his analysis.

More and more he started to get into the material, coming up with good theories and posing questions more frequently.

Slowly, he was transforming from the brash angry teenager Otabek first and encountered in the school canteen to the person Otabek had gotten a glimpse of on the stage all those years ago.

At times, he'd be working himself hard enough to make Otabek concerned for his health. Viktor would teasingly tell him that he'd tamed the beast in the boy, something to which Otabek would disagree with. Moreover it felt like he had sparked a fire which he wasn't entirely sure how to put out.

It wasn't before he caught himself admiring Yuri’s lithe figure from his seat in the armchair he would realise he was standing right in the middle of it.

The grey clouds outside made the light filtering through the curtains sharp, casting harsh shadows on the blonde tresses falling into Yuri's eyes.

He bit on his lip as he concentrated, hand lazily jotting down notes as he read. It was by far the most interesting sight in the room. With Yuri collecting his thoughts there was little else to do for Otabek while he waited to discuss the book.

“I don't get it,” Yuri muttered.

There was a hint of annoyance in his tone, his eyes staring at the page with mild exasperation.

Otabek glanced at the scribbles on the paper, reaching out to get a better look. Although the lines were written with decisive hard strokes, Yuri’s handwriting was surprisingly neat.

“They're not very omega-like at all, if they're going to write a power dynamic like that they might as well write a normal sappy piece of shit.”

Otabek hummed in amusement, peeking over Yuri’s shoulder to read the page he was currently on.

“Ignore the dynamic for a moment,” he mumbled, resting his chin on the younger man’s shoulder. He could feel Yuri tense up at first, but then relaxed, a silent confirmation that he was alright with their arrangement.

“It's a book about dynamics.”

“It's about a relationship. That's the whole point, the dynamics doesn't matter.”

“That's a pretty bold statement.”

Yuri turned his head slightly, his eyes not quite meeting Otabek’s. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. A sigh escaped from the small gap between his lips.

“Even if it's a book, it is rooted in society. You can't deny that dynamics matter, can you?”

“That's the beautiful thing about books don't you think? It doesn't have to deal with our current reality. I want you to reflect about that until next time.”

Yuri snorted, leaning back into the couch. “Now you really sound like a mouldy old professor.”

Otabek smiled. “Maybe I am. I'll see you next week.”

Yuri nodded absentmindedly, his eyes focused on something outside the window. There wasn't anything there in particular when Otabek shifted his gaze in the same direction. Then again, Yuri appeared to view the world quite differently from himself. It struck him that maybe Yuri wasn't the only one who needed to broaden his horizon for their arrangement to work.

He left with that thought lingering in the back of his mind.

* * *

By the time he reached the garage his mind was buzzing with thoughts. Most of them about his favourite book but some of the about Yuri as well. For the most part he hadn't expected the new angle of approach. He'd read the series multiple times; knew it inside out and backwards, thinking of himself as an expert.

There was no interpretation he hadn't thought of and yet Yuri had somehow twisted it all.

_I'm losing my touch._

He barely greeted the other workers but set himself to work on a car that had come in the other day. The state of the car made him surprised they had gotten it to the garage in the first place, but he did his best to mend it. By the time his shift neared an end his fingers were black with grime from the oily parts and slightly scraped. He grimaced as he reached for a rag to clean himself, realising it too was black with oil. Still, he took whatever he could get.

He wasn't completely satisfied after a generous rub down, but stood up to proceed to his favourite part of the day.

He padded over to a secluded corner of the garage, picking up various tools on his way. His little project was truly a masterpiece.

A sleek black form, silver coloured accents adorning the sides and the back. The bike was an old thing inherited from his mom. It was a beautiful specimen, but still needed a lot of work before it would be useable.

He run his fingers across the cool metal, a small smile tugging at his lips. Picking up a wrench, he was just about to start tinkering.

The action was interrupted by the unfamiliar sound of heels clacking against concrete. He turned towards the entrance, seeking to locate the source of the sound.

His mouth dropped slightly open when he realised who their guest was.

She was wearing a tailored suit, her hair in a neat bun at the back of her neck. The logo of the local progressive youth party adorned a set of flyers she was carrying.

She was a perfect image of an upper class activist, and yet, there was something undeniably Mila about her.

She grinned when she spotted him, her pace quickening to a light run. Otabek wiped at his face to remove any stains although he had a sneaking suspicion he just made it worse, then hurried over to her.

“How did you find me?” The question was probably not how she expected to be greeted if her huff was anything to go by. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Everyone know you hang out with Leo. I'd be surprised if your best friend didn't know where you work.”

“I’m surprised he knows,” Otabek muttered to himself. He glanced up at Mila, dressed in her fancy suit and a million-dollar grin.

“What's the occasion?”

Mila shrugged, leaning against the hood of a rusty old wreck a local farmer had brought in.

Otabek tried not to flinch as the expensive material of her jacket came in intact with the dirty metal. If Mila noticed, she didn't comment on it.

“You never fulfilled your promise of taking me here, so I figured I'd take the matter in my own hands.”

“On the day of your party’s campaign.”

“It was getting stifling. Show me your work?”  
T

he thought of showing Mila his cluttered workspace and the partly disassembled motorcycle made his cheeks burn. He had always imagined a scenario where the bike was more or less done and he'd show her some simple detail work. The situation had always been supposed to happen within his control, but was quickly spiralling into uncertain territory. However,there was no way he could deny her now that she had shown up.

Reluctantly, he lead her over to the partly disassembled bike. Her face remained impassive as he gestured towards the vehicle.

“It's not much yet. Mom inherited it but never used it, so she figured I'd be a good owner for it, much to my other mothers’ chagrin”.

“How come?”

“They can be… overprotective.”

Mila nodded, not questioning him any further, to Otabek’s relief. She extended a hand to run her fingers across the cold metal.

“Does it run?”

“Not yet, but hopefully by the end of the week.” Otabek crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on his heels. “It'll be a nice change from walking everyday”.

“And here I thought you were a health freak.” Her tone was playful, although he could tell she meant it on some level.

“You're one to talk,” he huffed, recalling the lidded plastic cups filled to the brim with some green goo that she'd been carrying around the canteen for the past month.

Mila smiled, her teeth grazing the edge of her lips, slightly chapped, possibly from the harsh wind that had hounded the little town all day. Otabek made a mental note concerning her lips, filing it away with all the other imperfections she so rarely displayed to the untrained viewer. He had made it a game of sorts, collecting pieces to the intricate puzzle that was her, all sides from dazzling public smiles to unfocused absentminded gazes.

Otabek wondered if he looked as stupid as he felt, his eyes flickering away from her face.

Instead he chose to focus on her hands, motionlessly resting beside his on the bike. He could feel her focus shift to their hands as well, her fingers makings subtly motion towards his, a silent invite his mind was screaming to accept.

Brrrrrrrr brrrrr brrrrrr

The moment was broken by the sound of a phone angrily vibrating, making them both jump. Mila scrambled to extract a smartphone safely tucked into a purple phone case from her jacket pocket.

Otabek snatched his hands back as if they hadn't been moments from taking hers in his, shoving them into the pockets of his jeans.

Mila smiled sheepishly at him before picking up the phone. Her brows furrowed at something said on the other end of the call, hoisting her bag (probably full of flyers) more comfortably onto her shoulders. Otabek allowed her to have her phone call in peace, making his rounds around the garage to close it down for the day.

By the time he was done, Mila was waiting for him by the door. She was shifting her weight from foot to foot, her fingers tapping impatiently against her phone.

“I'm sorry, I'm needed elsewhere, but thank you for showing me around.”

Otabek nodded, not sure what was expected of him. He had hardly had the time to show her anything. Any polite phrase to see her off felt odd on the tip of his tongue, and yet, he wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to invite her back.

She saved him from answering, almost appearing to sense his discomfort with words.

“Hit me up when your bike is up to run?”

“Of course”. The words sounded dead as they exited his mouth. He hoped he didn't sound as bored to her as he did to himself.  
She grinned, closing the little space between them, pecking him on his cheek.

It didn't quite register before she was halfway down the street, his mouth closing from the pathetic o shape it had been making at her slowly disappearing form.  
Inside his chest, his heart was beating out a loud rhythm, making him uncertain he'd be able to calm it again


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler I'm afraid, school doesn't leave much time for writing but I promise I will finish this fic! (Excuse my inability to come up with names, I probably went for a real general one for the sister)
> 
> Still un-betaed, English isn't my first language so excuse any mistakes!

Rainy days were his favourites. The rhythmic beating of raindrops on his roof and the cool atmosphere and the grey colours of the sky and outside world made him feel relaxed. It was on these days he would pull up his document and write, except he hadn't mustered up the will to actually do it yet.

It was a Saturday morning, the air crisp with a promise of rain later on. His hair was damp from the run he had gone on after breakfast, making him long for a hot shower.

He tossed his jacket on the couch, grabbing a glass of water and a bottle of pills from the messy counter of his two-room apartment. The bottom of the little container was almost visible. Only a few more weeks before he’d need to visit the apothecary again. He grimaced and popped the small gelatine cased dose of chemicals into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of water. The glass made a sound of protest as he slammed it down on the counter, his eyes seeking the dull view outside the window.

As if on cue, rain started to fall in heavy bouts, washing away any semblance of the pristine picture usually displayed beyond the smudgy glass frame. He trailed the droplets sticking to the glass with his fingers, humming contently.

It was on days like this he felt the freest. With the rain washing away any lingering scents and clouding people’s ability to smell, he could almost forget the role he had reluctantly been saddled with. In the rain, he wasn’t Otabek, the youngest child of an all-female triad and the only omega in a family of six. He just _was_ ; another fleeting existence clinging to the world. It was easy to pretend when he was alone when in his apartment, watching the raindrops splatter against the tall glass wall towering over a slumbering city.

Out of the people he knew, few appreciated rain like he did. Maybe he would have liked it less if it hadn't given him the relief of anonymity as he walked down the street, but it either way he couldn't deny that the rhythmic patter had a general calming effect on him.

Sighing, he made himself a cup of green tea and settled down on the couch with his laptop. He quickly checked that he didn't have any messages (Yuri had taken to sending him questions regularly lately), then opened his thesis document.

Grey eyes stared at the screen motionlessly for a couple of minutes before he shut the laptop. Inspiration just wasn't coming today.

He rose, trying to shake off the underlying restlessness. He knew it was probably a minor side effect of a long postponed heat finally coming back to bite him in the ass, but he couldn't afford to take a break anytime soon. The restlessness and occasional headaches was annoying, sure, but he could deal with it easy enough.

Especially on rainy days. He wouldn't let it ruin a rare rainy day.

Grabbing his coat he hastily pushed a few stray wads of cash that were lying around his flat into his pockets and headed for the door, mentally skimming a list of possible cafés that might get him through his writing block.   
The door beat him to the punch, swinging open before he even had the chance to put a hand on the handle, revealing a short woman.

Otabek exhaled in surprise taking a step back to let her in, She smiled appreciatively, shrugging off her heavy wool coat to reveal a floral dress, without doubt designed by his mother.

Natalya had always been a sight to behold. Her skin was the same soft tan as his, her dark brown hair falling over broad shoulders. She had all the grace of their mothers, yet presented herself in a slightly rougher way. Out of his two sisters, Otabek liked her the best.

That didn’t keep him from being irked by her sudden appearance.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” he grumbled. She frowned, closing the door behind herself.

“We’re painting the house next week, they expect you to be there.”

Otabek nodded, moving over to make room for her in the cramped kitchen space. Up close he could see how the recent rain still clung to her hair, obscuring the soft wooden scent he associated with her. She was scowling at him, handing over an envelope.

“You’re really getting too old for pocket money.”

They allowed silence to fall between them, only the light patter of rain upon glass filling the room with sound.

Occasionally it’d be accompanied by the hum of an engine as a car passed by the building.

Otabek didn't know how long they just stood there listening to the white noise. Despite their differing personalities, they had never had anything against sharing a silent moment, quietly appreciating each other's company. Often, they might even part without saying a word. This time however, Natalya broke the silent, reluctant intent painting her features.

“I hear you've been tutoring.” It was a statement, although

Otabek could sense the underlying question. His thoughts went to Yuri, quietly reading his books while Otabek worked on his thesis. The last few times he'd been resting his back against

Otabek’s shoulder with the excuse it was easier to get his attention like that. Otabek was reluctant to admit that it certainly got his attention, even when not requested.

He looked pointedly at his hands, making sure to keep any emotion out of his stance and expression as he spoke. He had long since stopped questioning her network, the natural charm and ability to convince winning her many a contact, but that didn't mean he wanted to blatantly confirm anything for her.

“Who told you?”   
She waved her hand dismissively.

“Doesn't matter. I was curious, it doesn't seem like a thing you'd do.” She poked his shoulder at the “you”, obviously digging for gossip. Otabek shrugged tiredly.

“You don't think so?”

“You usually stick to yourself.

Don't tell me you suddenly found an interest in interacting with other people on a regular basis like a normal human being.”

Otabek scoffed. It wasn't that he didn't like interacting with people.

Moreover, people seemed to do fine without him meddling, being a quiet observer not bothering him in the slightest. He went for the safe answer, which was also mostly the truth.

“I'm just repaying a favour.”

“Then why put so much effort in?”

The sentence made him frown in confusion for a second, then a piece clicked in his mind, making him realise this was not her usual digging for gossip.

“Have you guys been stalking me again?” 

The room fell silent, his sister staring stubbornly at him. Her hands were crossed over her chest in what was probably supposed to be an intimidating pose. He gritted his teeth, and pushed past her out of the kitchen.

“I can't believe you.”

There was no sound of Natalya attempting to follow him. For a moment he contemplated just leaving her, finding somewhere else to stay for the night, but he decided against it. He didn't need more reasons for his overprotective parents to fuss over him.

Instead, he slumped down on the couch in the living room. Natalya appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling sheepishly at him.

“You know how she gets. Especially when there are alphas involved.”

Otabek let out a bitter laugh. “So that's what this is about. It's not like that.”

“How do you know it won't be? This is not one of your books where you all upend the world together and live happily ever after. You know they'd blow a fuse if you suddenly showed up at their door pregnant one day without their consent. That doesn't exactly leave much room for anything but your fantasy dynamics.”

“Why do you always assume-”

“Female alphas can conceive and male omegas can impregnate, but that doesn’t mean they should. You don’t regularly use human-made emergency exits for fun, so stop pushing the natural ones.”

“Im not- we're not-” he put up his hands in exasperation, trying to think of something to make her back off. In the end, she was their mothers’ daughter, worry came easy for her and robbed her of any common sense. He knew he couldn't win. 

Dejectedly he let his hands fall to his side, turning away from her.

“You're right, this is not a book and I'm not having this conversation. Tell them I'll be over to help with the painting.”  
He was relieved when Natalya didn't protest any further, but simply headed over to the exit. She paused in the door, glancing over her shoulder. 

“You should be more careful Beka.” The look she gave him was the one she saved for her omega boyfriend when he was only days away from going into heat, and neither her nor their alpha could do anything to help him. Otabek didn’t think he had made himself deserving of such pity.

The door closed with a soft thump, leaving him in a sour mood, and no motivation to continue his thesis. He opened his laptop with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaa im sorry I kept you guys waiting so long for this (plot will resume soon!), anyway, thank you so much for bearing with me. This fic is mostly a shameless excuse to explore and also attempt show that what fandom police considers taboo can have more sides to it or something like that ah,, ( = ▽ =; ) In other words, it's a bit of a literary play ground for me so I hope it doesn't stray too far from what could be considered recognisable for this ship  
> (I guess that's enough pretentious rambling for this time I guess)


End file.
